Chapter Nine.
Treats of a Catastrophe and Ruin.
We return once again to the cottage on the Scottish Border. It is not quite so lowly as it was when first introduced to our readers. Although not extensively changed, there is a certain air of comfort and prosperity about it which gives it much the appearance of a dirty boy who has had his face washed and a suit of new clothes put on. It has been whitewashed and partially re-roofed. A trellis-work porch with creepers has been added. The garden bears marks of improvement, and in one part there are four little plots of flower-beds, so conspicuously different in culture and general treatment as to suggest the idea of four different gardens. Inside of Mr Jack’s abode there are also many changes for the better. The rooms are better furnished than they used to be. Several cheap oleograph copies of beautiful pictures adorn the walls, and the best parlour, which used to be kept in a condition of deadly propriety for state occasions only, is evidently used in the course of daily life. A brand-new piano, with a pretty little girl seated before it, suggests advancing refinement, and the expression of the child’s face, while she attempts the impossible task of stretching an octave, indicates despair. There is another little girl seated at a table darning with all the energy of a Martha-like character. She is engaged upon a pair of juvenile socks, which have apparently been worn last by a cart-horse. Books and drawing materials and mathematical instruments on the table betoken progressive education, and, in short, everything without and within the cottage tells, as we have said, of prosperity.
It must not be supposed, however, that all this is due to Philosopher Jack’s good fortune and liberality. When the first letter came from California, telling of the safety of our hero and his friends, Mr Jack was indeed in great material distress, but there was no money in that letter. It was despatched from San Francisco at the time of the arrival of the party, along with letters from the other members, informing their various relations of their deliverance. But if the letter had contained tons of the finest gold it could not have added a feather’s weight to the joy of the old couple, who, like the widow of Nain or the sisters of Bethany, had received their dear lost one direct from the Lord, and, as it were, back from the dead. Then, after an interval, came Captain Samson’s letter enclosing the bill for 1000 pounds, and explaining why Philosopher Jack himself did not write with it. Mr Jack senior thankfully used two hundred of the amount, which was quite sufficient to extricate him from all his difficulties. The balance he put into the nearest bank, to be kept for “the dear boy” on his return.
From that date God sent prosperity to the cottage on the Border. Flocks increased, seasons were no longer bad, grey mares no longer broke their legs, turnips throve, and, in short, everything went well, so that, instead of using the large sums of money which his son frequently sent him, Mr Jack placed them all to “dear Teddie’s” credit in the bank.
In one of these letters, his son mentioned that he had sent still larger sums to the care of Mr Wilkins senior, to be invested for himself. Mr Jack, having consulted with his faithful spouse, drew his son’s gifts from the local bank, went to the city of Blankow, called on Mr Wilkins, and desired him to invest the money in the same concern with the rest. Mr Wilkins purchased shares with it in the Blankow Bank, telling Mr Jack that he considered it one of the best and safest investments in Scotland, that he had invested in it all the funds sent home by his own son and his comrades, and that he himself was a large shareholder. Thus did Mr Jack senior act with all the gifts that Jack junior sent him, saying to Mr Wilkins on each occasion, that, though the dear boy meant him to use the money, he had no occasion to do so, as the Lord had prospered him of late, and given him enough and to spare.
We re-introduce the Jack family to the reader at breakfast-time, not because that was the only noteworthy period of their day, but because it was the time when the parents of the family were wont to talk over the daily plans.
Mr Jack went to the door and shouted, “Breakfast!” in a sonorous tone. Instantly the octave was abandoned and the socks were dropped. Next moment there was a sound like the charge of a squadron of cavalry. It was the boys coming from the farm-yard. The extreme noise of the family’s entry was rendered fully apparent by the appalling calm which ensued when Mr Jack opened the family Bible, and cleared his throat to begin worship. At breakfast the noise began again, but it was more subdued, appetite being too strong for it. In five minutes Dobbin was up to the eyes in a treacle-piece. This was a good opportunity for conversation.